"...[a] moderately interesting ten days - since Cirily insists on counting time, even in a place where time has no meaning - with a really superb ending...first off a gallant, lithely muscled ranger woman from a tribe of Sylvan Elves. What a physique for an elf! Her belly hard, flat, muscled like a dragon-turtle's shell, her skin woodland tan - had to have her. Wore my turquoise enchantress' gown and played the bookish girl looking for a taste of the wild. She took it coyly, but before she knew it, that quick, archer's hand of hers was buried in my pussy to the wrist - funny how that tends to happen. She was doubly impressed when I showered my thighs and her forearm with my nectar during my climax - but Sylvan Elf girls adore that sort of thing...a good evening with an High Elf bladesinger - said he usually preferred boys but made an exception for me - I was very flattered, so I got confirmation that he wasn't half bad with girls, either...best part, though, was when a certain paladin-in-training of the Radiant Path came to visit and here, Faenya sweetest, take notes..."

- excerpt from a letter from Elyszara to her friend, Faenya; Arvandor to Sigil correspondence, magically encoded for privacy

"Always keep your guard up; if there is one thing you take from these lessons is that in actual combat, a quick offence is only suitable if you know yourself to be better than your opponent. Most times, you will not have that guarantee, so a healthy defence is they key to survival, especially when working in a team. It is only when you know your opponent that you can outwit her."

Syf had prepared her concluding remarks to the day's fencing lesson as a sort of prelude to an intensive training in counter-attack routines. This particular batch of novices seemed to be well placed and on top of its game. Syf was certain that they would all be more than worthy combatants after their Consecration, nevertheless, one could never be too certain. Preparation, dedication and practice were the basis upon which she had built her fearsome reputation as the Temple's most promising young fighter and her capabilities reminded many of the infamous Isobel at the same stage in her development. Syf liked to think that she was a more elegant fencer, specialising in the longsword and sabre - weapons which allowed her to manoeuvre and make full use of her routines, rather than rely solely on brute force. For her dedication to the art of the blade, the more belligerent novices held her in great admiration - none more so than Ithunn.

From her position in the front row of the training novices, Ithunn could not shake her gaze from the perfect sight of Syf demonstrating each guard, each stance and each response to a hypothetical attack. Even with the dust of the fencing yard, the ache in her muscles and the uncomfortable perspiration of a long day's training, Ithunn felt that - if given the highly improbable chance - she could have kept Syf awake making passionate, breathless love until the following daybreak. That had become the agonising by-product of her heroine-worship.

Though she could have potentially had her pick from a number of fellow-novices, Ithunn wanted only Syf. Of course, she respected Friyya and very much liked the auburn-haired paladin's lessons on doctrine, but Syf - well, Syf was something else. Her piercing blue eyes, her severe, yet coldly beautiful visage, that perfect, tall, lithely muscled body. There was no escaping it, Ithunn's fantasies late at night, when she was secreted under the covers or when she thought she was alone in the communal bath had only one topic: Syf. When the novice felt romantically inclined, she would imagine Syf congratulating her after her Consecration with a long, searing kiss and a slow, consummate evening of lovemaking on the cool, stone pavement of the Temple; when she was feeling particularly perverse, she imagined Syf taking her forcefully, perhaps in the armoury after practise, perhaps in a darkened hallway, from behind, with a dildo. Whatever the case would have been, Ithunn would have been eager to serve.

"Ithunn!" Syf called, interrupting the novice's latest daydream of Syf's shoulder-length, midnight-black hair nestled between her thighs as the paladin initiated her to the most divine of pleasures. Just the thought had made her embarrassingly wet.

"Yes, Sister!" Ithunn replied, stunned and blushing visibly.

"What did I just say?"

"Apologies, Sister, I admit my mind was elsewhere." A few other novices could barely restrain their laughter, causing Ithunn to redden still further - something which was quite in evidence on her pale skin, almost like marble.

"Remain afterwards, I need to have a word with you - the rest of you are dismissed. We will pick up directly from defensive parries tomorrow. Come prepared and serious." Syf called and the crowd of novices eagerly dispersed, accompanied by their agitated chatting. Ithunn got more than one salacious wink as her fellow novices filed past her.

Once she was certain that the fencing yard was empty, Ithunn approached her mentor, "You wanted to see me, Sister?" she asked with trepidation.

"Ithunn, what's the matter? You are, put simply, the finest fencer of your year, but the last few lessons you've been distracted. This is an art which is more than raw talent, you know, you will need constant practise and dedication if you are ever to become truly legendary. Take note, though, this is not just encouragement, I'm certain you have all the ability to become one of the best this Order has seen."

The novice blushed furiously at the compliment, her eyes downcast. "I have had something on my mind, Sister."

"Ithunn, you can call me Syf." The paladin said softly. Her policy was not show favourites, but it was useless to resist - she did have a soft spot for the pretty novice. To be sure, there was a strong admiration element which featured in Syf's positive appraisal of Ithunn, but the paladin had also been moved by her student's soulful green eyes, her classical Ortho beauty, the spun-gold beauty of her long hair, always kept in a single, meticulously knotted, traditional braid.

"Thank you, Sis...Syf. I am so very grateful for your confidence in me." To say that Ithunn was in awe of being alone, speaking to her personal heroine was an understatement. If Syf had ordered her to march down into the Abyss, she would have done so without even thinking twice.

"So tell me what troubles you." Syf invited.

"I must confess that I am ashamed to say it." Ithunn replied, her eyes still squarely on the dusty surface of the fencing yard.

"Don't be silly, child, tell me." insisted Syf, as she gently cupped Ithunn's cheek to tilt the girl's head upwards so her piercing blue eyes could meet the novice's nervous gaze.

"I am alone, I have no beloved." Ithunn said, almost inaudibly.

"Ithunn, you could have any novice you chose and there are many Consecrated paladins who would be honoured to have you as a lover."

"Not the one I yearn for, Syf." The novice finally admitted, dejectedly, her eyes reluctantly meeting Syf's gaze to emphasise her point.

Syf stood motionless for a long moment - she knew there had been attraction, indeed mutual attraction, but that Ithunn was so infatuated (or perhaps in love?) to take it to that level had never occurred to her.

"You flatter me, child, believe me. Were it not for Friyya, I swear that you would be sharing my bed tonight, but I'm afraid I have already promised myself to her." Syf felt a pang of regret, but she realised that if she indulged that feeling, it would grow into a smouldering, repressed desire which would only end the same way the whole Elyszara fiasco had ended: in a truly epic mess. She had promised Friyya that she would remain faithful and that, Syf decided resolutely, was exactly what she would do.

"I know, I mean no ill will to Friyya." Ithunn said, quite truthfully, for she was a good natured person who was genuinely free from hatred or resentment, however subconscious.

"Of course you don't," Syf reassured, placing a soft, chaste kiss on Ithunn's pale rose-flushed lips, "but you know that Friyya and I have had some difficulties lately and I think I owe it to her to make sure she's as happy as I can make her."

That sentiment of devotion, combined with the electrifying contact of the kiss, filled Ithunn's soul with admiration and her loins with fire. Even though she knew she was being rejected, Ithunn had never felt so excited in her life. Her heartbeat throbbed ominously in her temples, her inner thigh already shamefully wet, "I understand," the novice managed, her voice muted by the stirrings of passion. "But remember that you will always be second only to the Goddess in my heart."

Syf smiled to herself: such adolescent exuberance, such burning hyperbole. Ithunn would mature into a fine paladin and a fiery lover, no doubt, but for now Syf was eager not to disappoint too much, especially in light of her special affection for the novice.

"Thank you, Ithunn, that means a lot to me and I think we can be the best of friends. Why don't we take a bath together so we can talk some more?" Syf proposed, not wanting to stand in her own sweat and the dust of the fencing yard for the rest of the evening.

"I would be honoured." Ithunn nodded eagerly, thinking that she would awaken anytime, as if from a dream, as she had so many times before.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Syf said, smiling earnestly as she took Ithunn by the hand and led her through into the Temple building.

The bathing chambers were quiet now that the bulk of the novices had refreshed themselves, though a few stragglers and bath connoisseurs had remained, mostly chatting and gossiping in the great, communal central tub. Steam pervaded the room, making clear visualisation of objects or people more than a few feet away virtually impossible. Ithunn's heartbeat accelerated in her chest as she watched Syf undress by the benches at the entrance to the main bathing chamber. There was such elegance in her movements, such self-assured grace which complemented her long, pale athletic limbs, her high, firm yet compact breasts, her proud, beautifully haughty neck. The novice was desperate to conceal any signs of her arousal as she fumbled to remove her clothes, folding them neatly on a pile beside Sfy's: a white novice's tunic besides the green and brown of a Consecrated paladin.

Syf, for her part, was overcome by her own appraisal of Ithunn: the novice was simply remarkable. She had a more feminine figure than Syf, slightly rounder and fuller at the breasts and hips, her body more like the depictions of blonde-haired, armoured Ortho goddesses or einheriar - warrior spirits - than that of an athlete. It occurred to Syf that Ithunn reminded her of Friyya, though where her lover was slender to the point of being delicate, the novice clearly had the potential for great physical prowess.

"Can you help me undo my braid?" Ithunn asked, almost bashfully; her fellow novices often fell over each other for that honour.

"With pleasure." Syf's touch was firm, but quick and effective. The sensation of the paladin's skilful hands on her wheat-blonde hair was divine; Ithunn felt her heart leap into her throat, the relative darkness of the bathing chamber only heightening the sensitivity of her skin. Once the braid had been freed, a fountain of long, straight hair, fine as cornsilk, spilled forth. Even Syf, despite her best attempts to remain indifferent was impressed.

They proceeded to the small, peripheral cleansing tubs where Syf began by diligently scrubbing away the residue of long hours of exertion from Ithunn's body, her touch firm, as always, but also steady - as if she were taking her time to fully appreciate each curve, each inch of perfect skin on Ithunn's body. By the time Syf had begun to run a fragrant sponge across the tops of her breasts, Ithunn was a bright crimson, mortified beyond belief by the insistent hardness of her ripe-strawberry nipples and by the fact that she could barely contain her moans each time the dark-haired paladin touched her. As Syf ran the sponge in a long, aching caress between Ithunn's thighs, the novice thought she was going to reach her climax there and then, for she could not contain a gasp of surprise and pleasure.

"I...I'm so sorry, Syf...I'm shameless..." Ithunn whimpered.

"Come now," Syf said, her voice low and reassuring as she planted a kiss on her student's head. "It's normal."

By the time it was Ithunn's turn to scrub Syf down, her hands were trembling, the slippery sponge, infused with cleansing oils, was unsteady in her grip.

"I hope you won't be this nervous when the time comes for you to draw your blade on an enemy. I may be intimidating, but I don't think that I'm so tyrannical as to inspire terror in my students, especially not in my most talented students." Syf joked.

Ithunn nodded wordlessly, her hands taking the opportunity to explore the firm, lean muscle of Syf's belly and thighs, her fingers just brushing against the dark curls atop the paladin's sex. The novice felt her heartbeat propel magma, and not blood, through her veins, as a knot of unspeakable passion formed in her throat.

After carefully rinsing their bodies of all cleansing oil residues, Syf and Ithunn stepped into the great central tub at the very centre of the bathing chamber, directly beneath the domed ceiling. The water was warmer there, more soothing, long, misty tendrils of steam extended from the almost motionless surface of the water to waft into the air. In the heat of her arousal and the heat of the chamber, Ithunn almost felt faint, but she managed to lower herself into the tub by Syf's side. Her heroine's proximity sent shivers up her spine.

"What are you afraid of? Come closer." Syf invited, drawing Ithunn into an embrace and allowing the novice to lean back against her breasts. A curtain of fragrant, pale blonde hair poured over Syf's pristine white breast, "You see, I may be strict when I lead training, but that is my work. Life should never revolve around relaxation, but even the sternest of priestesses must know when it is time to recover from the weight of the day."

"You are wise, Syf." Ithunn said dreamily, feeling the regular pulsation of the paladin's heartbeat.

"Again with the flattery...you will one day make your lover very happy, I am certain of it."

"I tried to go out recently...I mean, I went out recently," Ithunn confessed, "I know it's against the Rule, but I did it because I felt as if I had to. Many of my fellow novices like to look upon me as a sort of a leader, so I didn't want to disappoint them."

"So did I, back when I was a novice." Syf replied, her tone complicit. She had, after all, only been Consecrated quite recently.

"That makes me feel better."

"So tell me, what happened?" Syf said, a hand absentmindedly caressing her student's firm belly.

"Well, I was almost ashamed. I didn't think I was very well dressed; my family gets by the best it can, sending me here was a relief for them."

"I know exactly how you feel." Syf had never possessed - both by choice and by necessity - a single item of clothing besides her official tunics, armour and dress uniform, nor even contemplated wearing jewellery, not even the pendant Friyya had given her.

"But...despite everything, there was this young woman. She was elven, or something, and very...controversially...dressed. But she took an interest in me. She made me feel pretty and esteemed so when she tried to kiss me, I let her. And then...she put her hand between my thighs and I just couldn't contain myself. I slapped her and left...I know I was perhaps a little hasty, but I felt taken advantage of, you know, manipulated." Ithunn hesitated throughout her story, her voice trembling and confused. There was such a vast world out there of which she had very little knowledge.

- Can't be, - Syf thought as she contemplated the character in Ithunn's account. - Or could it? Stranger things have happened, I've got to ask Shesayne. -

"Ithunn, child," Syf began her tone almost maternal as she drew the novice in closer, "there are many who would flatter you to seize an advantage for themselves, or create illusions without the aid of magic, just with the skill of their tongue. It's important that you learn to tell the difference between real feelings and curiosity, or desire."

"I understand, I still have so much to learn." Ithunn sighed, taking immense pleasure in the increasingly intimate contact with Syf.

"There's time, but in the meanwhile, I want you to meet with me and Friyya, just for a chat somewhere."

"Really?" Ithunn said eagerly.

"Of course. If you like, you can ask Friyya to help you out. She knows many priestesses, not only of our Order, but of the temples of Hanali and Sune. I'm sure you will soon find a nice, devoted girl who will make you happy...with your Consecration coming up, they will be fighting to get to you."

"Perhaps it's too early," Ithunn sighed regretfully, "I need more time to think."

"Oh, there's plenty of time." Syf said, a little preoccupied by Ithunn's quickening breathing and the general tension in the novice's muscles each time she was stroked.

"I'm sorry, Syf, I really am very...tense." Ithunn said with palpable awkwardness.

"I know," the paladin said knowingly, feeling the fires of her own passion somewhat kindled - Ithunn was certainly very pretty indeed, but not worth risking her unique relationship with Friyya for, "but the mark of a good fencer, as well as that of a good lover is to know when it is time for restraint."

They lay together for a few more long moments, their minds wandering with the boundless curiosity of imagination. Even Syf, who knew how vital reticence with Ithunn would be, found herself imagining the novice's beautiful face contorted in pleasure, the softness of her mouth, the hot, moist paradise which lay between the folds of her sex.

Then they rose, almost by unspoken consensus, from the pool to dry each other off, Syf dutifully beginning to re-assemble Ithunn's braid. "You're going to have to guide me here, I was never really in touch with Ortho culture so I don't know where this begins or ends." Syf said, bemused at the - superfluous - complexity of having such an elaborate coiffure.

Ithunn allowed herself an irreverent giggle, "You'll get the hang of it. I'm surprised that Friyya never asked you to do this for her, though."

"No never, she prefers it free flowing, which is ridiculous and a liability in combat if you ask me, but maybe I can convince her when we go out on more demanding tasks."

"Syf," Ithunn began, revelling in the comforting, if not sensual, experience of even the lightest of the paladin's touches, "I'm glad we had this time to ourselves and I'd be happy to spend some more time with you soon."

"Me too," Syf admitted, "I feel so much better after a long day's work now."

***

Friyya was reading peacefully by candlelight, comfortably curled up in her nightgown and sitting in a simple wooden chair in her bedchamber. Syf was late from practise, but she could smell the welcome aromas of Virginia's first-rate cooking from the nearby kitchen. There was at least a strike of the Bell Tower before dinner would be ready, so she had decided to pass the time with a guilty pleasure: a return to the wide-eyed literary romances she so loved in early adolescence. Friyya had become so absorbed, and not for the first time, in the suspense of the wicked Prince's plot to force himself on the innocent, but heroic stableboy, that she did not notice Syf creep up behind her with well-practised stealth. Then, when her lover was upon her it, was too late for Syf had her lips firmly and passionately planted on her neck, her hand already under the auburn-haired paladin's nightgown, cupping a firm, majestic breast.

"Oh, Syf..." Friyya sighed as she felt her lover gently tease her peach-pink nipples with firm, slow tugs.

"Still reading that rubbish?" Syf said, her voice passionate as she left a warm, wet trail with her tongue down Friyya's throat.

"Well, I was waiting for you to show me real romance." Friyya said, her breath quickening as she felt her nipples stiffen under Syf's touch, the combination of insistent roughness with loving pressure was something the raven-haired paladin always managed to execute perfectly.

"Is that so? How's this then?" Syf inquired huskily, thrusting her lips against Friyya's, effortlessly opening the auburn-haired girl's mouth to the smouldering curiosity of her tongue. The kiss was powerful, so laden with unspoken erotic tension left unfulfilled after her bath with Ithunn that even Friyya was surprised at Syf's passion. Their mouths fought desperately, Syf desperate to surround herself in the warm, welcoming moisture of Friyya's perfect lips.

"Hmm, my little Syf, I was thinking of romance a little further down..." Friyya teased.

"How delicate and ladylike of you." Syf growled with mock sarcasm as she playfully seized one of Friyya's nipples, hard and evident against the plain white fabric of the girl's nightgown, between her lips and bit down.

"You started it, so it's your job to clean it up." Friyya said snidely; she knew that Syf found it arousing to see her normally demure lover so wanton, especially after a long day's training. Must have been something related to the excitement of swordplay.

It did not take the raven-haired paladin long to comply as she reverently lifted the hem of Friyya's nightgown to expose the girl's treasure hidden beneath a delicate thatch of auburn curls. Friyya eagerly repositioned herself on the chair, thighs apart, knees raised, to grant her lover easier access. Hardly needing the invitation, Syf sunk into the world in which she so desperately needed to lose herself: into the fragrant, saline wetness of her lover's sex, her tongue hungry against the copiously juicing nether lips.

Friyya sighed at first, adjusting herself further against Syf's face to allow for the deepest penetration possible, her hands almost subconsciously raising the hem of her nightgown further, so that it bunched up in little pleats of white fabric around her waist. Syf was already hungrily at work, her tongue probing the swollen, silky flesh of her lover's flowering sex, each lick a long arch across the tortured, sodden surface.

"Syf..." Friyya sighed in contentment, gently stroking her lover's short, yet enticingly soft hair between her fingers as she drew Syf's head in close, so as to feel the stirring sensation of her beloved's breath on the inflamed flesh of her sex. Syf was beyond reasoning, though, the accumulated sensual tension of having been so close yet so far with Ithunn overwhelming her, sending her into spasms of inchoate desire. She lapped almost savagely against Friyya's sex, eagerly tasting her lover's arousal, feeling the girl's engorged clit bloom and slide free from its hood under the gentle insistence of her tongue. The pressure on Friyya's clitoris mounted as the auburn-haired paladin, eyes already half-closed in the ecstatic throes of pleasure, began to buck her hips rhythmically against her lover's face, her firm breasts moving in tight little arcs under the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Settling in a comfortable, kneeling position in front of her lover's splayed sex, Syf used her hands to ease Friyya's thighs definitively apart, before inserting two fingers with ease into the girl's sodden sex. The taller woman's digits easily parted the velvety flesh to enter deep into the slick canal; there was no resistance, it was as if Friyya had gone slack, as if every single muscle in her body were ready to open further accommodate more of Syf. It was only a matter of time before Syf found Friyya's secret spot, nestled deep inside the smaller girl's sodden canal; she knew her beloved too well for there to be any secrets anywhere between them. Friyya, though, was too far gone to consider the depth of her bond with Syf. In that moment, she wanted only to discharge the mounting tension between her thighs, the burning flames of passion which had flooded her loins with the sweet-salty nectar of womanhood.

"Syf, you shameless girl." Friyya sighed between gritted teeth as she felt her lover gently work her thumb into the tight, puckered rosebud of her nether portal.

"It's your fault, your wetness overflowed and you're making this far too easy for me." Syf replied smugly as she gave her thumb, now pressed knuckle-deep inside the tight, deliciously moist recesses of Friyya's delectably feminine alabaster bottom, a quick, hard twist.

"Syf!" Friyya gasped in indignation. There was, however, nothing more she could add as she felt the taller woman's tongue press like the hard point of a lance against her clitoris, fingers still insistently massaging the most sensitive reaches of the canal of her sex. It was only a matter of a few more thrusts before she came, her cries loud and sharp, her sex contracting almost savagely around Syf's fingers. The raven-haired paladin did not stop at that, but rode the powerful waves of her lover's orgasm with hard, insistent little licks on her clitoris. Friyya felt as though the spasms which caused her body and sex to convulse would never end, each time she thought they would subside, Syf added another malicious little lick of her tongue or twist of her fingers and the sensation was prolonged into another little, less vital but no less sublime, burst of hot, satisfying pleasure.

Friyya struggled to regain her breath as Syf lay expectantly between her thighs. Her lover's piercing blue eyes stared into her own with a sensual wildness she slowly become accustomed to seeing. Syf was not only a brilliant lover, she was a truly passionate one who managed to fill Friyya's loins with burning, sometimes perverse, but always intense desire.

"Come here, sit with me." Friyya invited softly, her heartbeat still like a hammer in her chest.

Syf complied, wordlessly undoing her tunic and allowing the simple garment to fall to the ground, the fabric edging off the tight, stiff buds of her nipples. She took her place on Friyya's lap, immediately revelling in the sensation of her lover's hands cupping her small, perfectly firm breasts, nipples already aching under the slight pressure of the auburn-haired girl's fingernails.

"Dinner will be ready soon, I don't think you want Virg to catch us like this." Friyya warned, her voice soft and sensual against Syf's ear as the taller woman adjusted herself into a more comfortable position atop her lover.

"Hmm...I suspect you don't want Marsena to catch us like this."

"Yeah, you're right," Friyya agreed maliciously as she moved one hand down the firm, flat expanse of Syf's belly to cup the taller girl's sex, only to be immediately stunned by the hot wetness she found there, "it wouldn't be the first time that girl gets the wrong idea."

"You're always under the impression Marsena wanted you." Syf reprimanded, knowing full well the extent of Friyya's vanity.

"She did, I swear I saw her taking her own pleasure under the covers while watching me." Friyya insisted, gently working two fingers into Syf's lusty sex. There was no resistance whatsoever, the raven-haired paladin's nether lips were like a primordial sea: feminine, yielding and impeccably soft.

"Well, I don't suppose you ever thought of her that way, did you?" Syf said absentmindedly as she felt Friyya press hard on her clitoris with the palm of her hand whilst working a third finger deep into the velvety canal of her sex.

"Of course not!" Friyya lied.

All Syf could do was moan in defeated agreement as Friyya inserted a fourth finger, followed by the thumb into her sex. Upon reflection, Syf knew that Friyya may not have been overt about her romantic life or preferences, but she certainly knew exactly what she was doing. Even when she had assumed the auburn-haired girl to be a virgin, Syf had been impressed by her lover's skills. Obviously a little reading and a little practise on oneself went a long way. That, of course, was Syf's conclusion as she felt Friyya's digits slowly spread and massage the innermost depths of her sex, the base of the palm still grinding mercilessly into her inflamed clitoris. As the fingers within her sex flared and retracted, easily pulling apart the soft, pliable tissue of Syf's sodden core, the dark-haired paladin could not help but ask herself why, with such a skilled and affectionate lover, she still needed to indulge her fondness for Ithunn.

That was, however, a peripheral thought as she felt more of Friyya's hand part her swollen folds like a hot needle through honey. Syf squirmed in Friyya's arms, her back, firm with lean muscle, rubbing sensually against the swollen nipples of the shorter woman's statuesque breasts, her athletic, yet feminine, bottom finding sweet purchase in the silky softness of her lover's thighs. As always, Syf preferred to keep her climax discreet, allowing herself a few long, breathless moans, before slumping back, her sex still stretched and in gentle spasms around Friyya's fingers.

Syf slumped back against her lover's chest, feeling the sensation of Friyya's relentless kisses on the top of her head and of one hand still cupping her sex and the other gently stroking a small, firm breast.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ever made you doubt me." Syf sighed as she turned to embrace her lover, straddling Friyya's thighs and planting affectionate, conciliatory kisses on the girl's sensual lips.

"Syf, my beloved, we never need to talk about that again. What's done is done. I don't think I could ever, ever stop loving you, though."

"Forever, Friyya?" Syf asked. The experience with Ithunn had made her vulnerable, made her fear for the future. Only Friyya - and, in a different way, Virginia and

Marsena - were in a position to offer certainty and support in a sea of turbulent emotions.

"Of course, silly, forever." Friyya reassured, kissing back with passionate abandon.

Later that night, however, after they had all shared an amiable meal in the common room of their apartment, Syf lay at Friyya's side as the darkest hour of Sigil's tenebrous night drew close. Friyya stirred softly in Syf's arms, like a child needy of its mother's touch. Syf, though, could not help but ask herself what would have been if Friyya had never approached her. Whether or not she would have been happier with Ithunn. In retrospect, though, there was no sense in creating counter-factual accounts. The time she had spent with Friyya had unequivocally been the happiest of Syf's life. She could only be grateful to the Vigilant Maiden for that; as much as she liked Ithunn, the very thought of not being able to hold beautiful, sweet Friyya as she slept was painful to consider.

***

Ithunn lay curled up against the wall, sheets pulled over her head as she held herself in a foetal position, both hands under her nightgown and between her thighs. It was shameful, it was lascivious and it did not even come close to doing her feelings for Syf honour, but Ithunn was flesh and blood and there was no denying the fleshly side of her attraction to the sternly beautiful paladin who haunted her living dreams. As she ran two fingers down her moist, inner lips, Ithunn could not help but predispose the scene in front of her. Syf taking her, making love to her in the armoury, in the library, even in the fencing yard in front of the other - jealous - novices. The rhythm of her hand accelerated with each thought, the palm of her hand now grinding frantically against the swollen little bud of her clitoris, her breath growing shorter in each motion as she felt her hips begin to roll and buck in response to her fantasies, as if Syf's head were really now immersed lovingly between her thighs.

"Ithunn..."

"What!" Ithunn snarled, sheer frustration spreading across her face. She had been so close, she had felt the approaching fire of the conflagration of her climax. In her dreams Syf was landing firm, but playful slaps on her exposed bottom for failing to complete a weapons drill successfully. The fantasy always ended, when not interrupted, with Syf taking her, either with her fingers or with an olisbos, anywhere she chose.

"Ithunn, if you're lonely, I can help you with that." The voice was soft, timid, but sincere.

"Go away, Inge, I need to be alone." Ithunn snapped. Although Inge was one of her best friends; a quiet, petite - to the point of being frail - bookish girl who was training for the priesthood of the Vigilant Maiden and not to become a paladin, she was not high on Ithunn's priority list at that point.

"Ithunn, please, let me help you...I may not be much, but I know I can show you so much affection, so much love."

On rational consideration, Inge had a pretty, oval face, a very slight and delicate figure, long platinum-blonde hair which she dyed a tasteful light blue, and mournful, grey eyes. She may have been cute, but she was certainly not Syf.

"That's not what I need right now." Ithunn said, more callously than she had intended. She could hear Inge draw a soft whimper in response.

"You're so cruel to me. I would give you all the love in the world, not leave you halfway and frustrated like Syf. If only you knew how much you make suffer."

"Oh, Goddess, don't cry...climb in here, then, if it means so much to you." Inge was such a sweet-natured girl that even the thought of hurting her sent pangs of painful remorse through Ithunn's conscience.

Under the sheets, Inge seemed even smaller, more immaterial, like a sylph or some other air spirit - so light and delicate you were afraid to touch it for fear of damaging its fragile perfection. Before long they were kissing: Inge out of passion, Ithunn out of necessity, the heat and desire for Syf returning like a powerful torrent breaking open the ice of mid-winter. But as Inge sunk beneath the sheets, her mouth hot, insistent and passionate - if not especially skilled - against Ithunn's sex, the fantasy began again. Although it was Inge's tongue coaxing her sopping sex with endearingly clumsy licks, Ithunn could only return to Syf: Syf smiling at her, pinning her against a weapons rack, braiding her hair, whispering sweet nothings as they rested above a silk pillow in an imaginary castle built only in the novice's fevered imagination.

***

Von Dassau was having a particularly good day. The '71 Alberada from Catofini which he had thought must have peaked some time ago turned out to be perfectly drinkable and very substantial, especially considering the bottle's age. Reports to approve of and sign had been few and far between; Isolde had registered and liaised in on time twice already and his article on archaic proto-Halfling linguistics on Athas was proceeding apace. Finally he would have something to publish in Sigil's Review of Philological Studies. That, if not his immobile career, would put him on the - so to speak - map.

"Sir, I am reporting in." Isolde called from the doorway of Dassau's office. Her mood had improved substantially since Dassau had given her carte blanche to investigate on her own initiative.

"Good, good, all is in order then." Dassau replied, his mind carefully re-editing each sentence in his third draft. Nothing could be left to the vagaries of Fate. Everything had to be brought under control, organised and marshalled into perfect order for the perfect article.

"Sir, I thought you also needed me to liaise with you."

"Ah, you are - naturally - correct. Proceed." Dassau invited, though he was disinclined to listen.

"Sir, I believe I have traced some to the suspect activity to the Order of the Radiant Path."

"What?" Dassau inquired absentmindedly; he really did not want to lose his current stream of thought.

"Yes, Sir, the Radiant Path. I was wondering whether you knew..." There was, of course, the library as well, but Dassau was normally faster and more accurate.

"Self-evidently. Though I am somewhat surprised that some of their members - whom I expect to be named very soon if this is going to function as a legal investigation - are involved in activities which, even broadly speaking, can be deemed untoward." Anything which involved the recall of recondite of knowledge had Dassau's interest.

"Perhaps such aspects of their activity are unreported, or perhaps we are talking about individual actions, Sir."

"Well, as I was saying, the doctrinal tenets of the Radiant Path - defined as the Founding Axioms - together with the Rule - that is the propriety required of life as a Consecrated paladin or priestess - are the foundational structure upon which the edifice of the Order is built. It is, needless to say, a fairly dreary set of prescriptions which, whilst no where near as severe as those imposed by even more militant or more legally inclined orders, nevertheless requires a certain minimal level of moral probity."

"I do not doubt that, Sir, my supposition is that some may be under the impression that their religious prerogative trump our legal duties."

"How very astute, Isolde," Dassau commented, his tone as contemptuously patronising as usual, "but I suspect you shall encounter much difficulty in seeking to undo their networks. The Order fosters proximity - if not outright interdependence - between its members; there are powerful injunctions concerning the methodology and ritual associated with the formation of emotional or - indeed - sexual bonds between individual members. Of course, they are not the first militant or religious order to pioneer such a programme of psycho-emotional solidarity. On the world of Krynn, the Solamnic Knights were historically much known for their..."

"Sir, a thousand apologies if I interrupt, but perhaps if we could stick to the Radiant Path." Isolde said, nervous that Dassau was going to lapse into another rambling digression which would, in time lead to another digression still. Perversely, by force of digressions, the conversation - if it could be called that - occasionally returned to its original topic.

"Yes, yes, of course," Dassau snapped impatiently, "in any case, comprehensive research - of scholarly nature of course - into the Order suggests that their priority is the defence of the innocent, the cultivation of the self as an independent and social being, the exaltation of certain mysteries of femininity and the cult of the Vigilant Maiden, a deity which has been documented on a number of worlds so far under various guises. An interesting analogue of the Vigilant Maiden would be the deity known as Artemis or Diana on certain worlds who is likewise presumed to prefer the company of her own gender."

"Gods have genders, Sir?"

"Not as such, though it appears that as eternal spirits, some manifest a preference which may or may not vary over the aeons. The case of the Vigilant Maiden is emblematic, as is one of the apparent paradoxes of her cult - notions Althusser and Riesse call 'qualified virginity' and 'spiritual motherhood'. Of course, I do not exactly agree with their definitions - they strike me as insensitive to the multiplicity of cults associated with the Vigilant Maiden -, however, I strongly suspect there are elements to their doctrine which have yet to be fully investigated and would, should you chance upon them, make for a highly interesting article."

"That is most helpful, Sir, but I was wondering whether you had any practical advice."

Dassau smiled, a hungry, toothy, canine smile, which was more like a snarl, that exposed his perfect white fangs, his eyes gleaming with demonic light, "In my professional experience - that is, in my previous professional experience - I had the opportunity to encounter some members of this Order of yours."

"And your conclusion after such interactions, Sir?" Isolde asked, somewhat curious despite her suspicion of Dassau's infinite lecturing.

"Flesh and blood, Isolde, flesh and blood like any other mortal."

***

There was nothing more miserable, Elyszara decided, than dinner for two after an acrimonious quarrel. Sitting at the large, empty dining table, absentmindedly picking at her food, the aasimar considered her options: apologising yet again and thus incurring yet another lecture, or not apologising at all and wallowing in silent guilt. Naturally, insofar as Cirily was concerned, it was not a quarrel at all, just a little well placed discipline to ensure Elyszara knew never to doubt her good judgement again.

There had been something gnawing at Cirily's mind for some time, though: the very strangeness of her lover's behaviour ever since they had started taking time away from Arvandor in Sigil. There was something Elyszara was not telling her, for no sentiment could escape her perception.

"You still have to tell me what was going through your mind then." Cirily commented. She was no longer angry at her lover, nor was she interested in further recriminations, her primary interest now lay in discovering the roots of Elyszara's reasoning; the appeal she saw in a secret, potentially self-destructive affair.

"I thought you didn't care about the fidelity bit." Elyszara said glumly, staring at her plate. Normally Cirily's cooking was faultless, but that evening it all tasted like ash, as if there was no further pleasure to be had from the day.

"I don't," Cirily clarified. "It's the fact that you keep on hiding things from me."

"Like what?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Cirily invited, her tone more conciliatory. She had no intention of remaining angry. As a matter of fact, she had been planning a nice little make-up session later that evening - something she knew would pick Elyszara's spirits up. Punishments, by definition, could not last forever.

"I can tell you a story," Elyszara ventured. "I think you'll find it strange and confusing because I do too. But there is an important point to it."

"I'm listening."

"Do you remember when we were first introduced to the Order of the Radiant Path on Arvandor, not too long ago - in the days when the sky briefly became like midday and the light flooded the hills?" The memory was one of Elyszara's fondest; for the first time the grass had not felt cool and contemplative under her, it had been warm, almost soporific, as if it were inviting her to sleep on it.

"Yes, of course, when Virginia came as a representative for the novices of her order - to fetch water from the Maiden's Fountain for the Consecration."

Elyszara managed a pale smile, her eyes now lifted slightly to meet Cirily's, "So that's when my story begins."

***

- I remember -

All Elyszara could see was light - it filtered through the trees and fell upon the rolling, idyllic hills like an ocean of light. Her region of Arvandor had never, in her memory, seen anything like it - as if the goddesses and gods of that domain had finally decided to bring the dawn to its final culmination. The aasimar knew the change would be temporary, most likely a passing vagary which would persist but a brief while before returning to the rosy-hue of endless dawn. Then her contemplation of the light was broken - quite suddenly - by hoofbeats on the soft, dew-moistened ground.

- Must be that emissary of the Radiant Path - Elyszara mused, reclining comfortably against the grassy knoll by the embankment of the singing stream. The fresh water glistened, almost as if it were crystal. The stream led down through forests and glades into a deep cavern where it finally flowed into a well of deep ground water. There, devotees of the Vigilant Maiden had erected a great fountain of pale marble so they could celebrate at the confluence of the two sources of water, for the first came directly from the realm of the Maiden herself and the second from a spring sacred to Artemis. A place of great sanctity, no doubt, but of little interest to Elyszara.After all, basking in the presence of divinities led one to, inevitably, take them for granted. As far as Elyszara was concerned, they were just very powerful spirits indeed.

As the hoofbeats drew closer, Elyszara decided, as she always did, to indulge her curiosity, so she rose to her feet, and called out in greeting. "Milady knight where do you ride to in such haste?" The archaicisms were all part of one of her favourite acts.

Virginia reined in her horse to bring the beast to a halt by the side of the stream, not distant from the strange, elfin figure - clad only in a quasi-transparent light green gown.

"Apologies, miss," Virginia said dismounting, her bay horse waiting obediently by her side, "but would you be one of the fabled inhabitants of this place - a spirit of this Plane?" The novice's curiosity had been stirred, not least because she had heard that such ethereally beautiful women inhabited the depths of the forests of Arvandor, acting as guardians and keepers of the trees, the streams and the very Land itself. The strange woman certainly fit the description: skin like moonbeams with bright, clear eyes and iridescent hair which ranged from midnight black to strands of purest silver depending on the light and angle.

"Why, naturally, milady knight." Elyszara affected her softest, airiest voice. These visitors were always easy to fool, though she almost regretted enjoying herself at this one's expense. She had a pretty, youthful sincerity about her which Elyszara sympathised with, perhaps even liked.

"Then it is an honour to meet such a fabled spirit." Virginia said, taking a bow of reverence.

"Oh, please, you embarrass me." Elyszara said with mock reticence, though she was all too happy to allow Virginia to kiss her hand.

"In answer to your first question, miss..."

"Elyszara." The aasimar clarified.

"Miss Elyszara, I have been charged by my order to retrieve some water from the Fountain for our ceremony of Consecration. I am soon to become a full paladin of my Order." The last part Virginia added with a touch of satisfaction - it had been a long and at times frustrating wait, but she had finally reached the goal of her burning ambition.

"Oh, how foolish of me, many like you have passed before...but I have been here so long, I have grown indifferent to the passage of time and of all but the most ancient of beings."

"Certainly, I understand." Virginia said softly, clearly in awe.

"I suspect, though, that I shall not soon forget one as majestic as you. So please, tell me your name so that I may know what to remember you by." Elyszara proclaimed, a mirthful laugh soundlessly flooding her mind.

The novice blushed visibly, a rosy tint flushing her pale skin. A compliment such as that from so divine a being was certainly a matter of great significance, "Virginia...and I am honoured that you would see me in such a flattering light." Her tongue cleaved to her palate, as if she were in a dream in which was left both speechless and immobile in stunned amazement.

- How sweet...- Elyszara thought, not without some pangs of guilt. This Virginia girl certainly had a sense of purpose and she had presence: her physique was fine and athletic, her emerald eyes intense with a sense of mission. For lack of a better word, Elyszara found her charming, "Come, milady, sit with me, you must be tired from your ride."

Virginia was stunned at the invitation. She was certainly not excessively tired, not having ridden very far at all, but she certainly thought of herself in no position to refuse. So she followed Elyszara to the grassy embankment and took her seat by the aasimar's side, allowing herself time to admire the passage of the sparkling water, illuminated by the bright shafts of light which filtered through the rich canopy.

"Please, I insist, call me Virginia." the novice said, breaking the silence of water flowing and leaping against stone.

"Well, Virginia," Elyszara began, taking her own time to admire the smart, immaculately white riding tunic the girl wore - the cut formal, almost military, but not unflattering for it allowed her to fully appreciate the slender tautness of Virginia's legs, "would you like to make yourself more comfortable, it is a warm day after all."

"I don't know..." Virginia trailed off as she felt herself shudder involuntarily. Elyszara's cool, dextrous hands were now pressed soothingly against her shoulders.

"Virginia, allow me, this is a place of great beauty, but your presence is nevertheless of great service to it." Elyszara adored parodying the formal, courtly language of her mother - it was so satisfying to see it corrupted to such a devious end.

"As you wish..." Virginia sighed, as if in a dream. Elyszara's hands were comforting as they undid her tunic, very slowly, sliding the garment off her body with consummate ease and laying it carefully on a moss-covered stone. Now naked, she could help but feel comfortable. The heat of the sunlight, the cool, moist spray from the stream and the soft grass beneath her were like a sensory blanket which covered her, deepening the trance instigated by the gentle caresses of Elyszara's hands.

"You have to take the time to meld into this place. To feel yourself overcome by its peace." Elyszara whispered soothingly into Virginia's ear, her hands firm and expert as they loosened any residual tension from the human girl's muscles. The aasimar had to admit that Virginia was quite a catch for her day's work: she had a dignified elegance to her and, of course, looked irresistible in her nudity.

Now Elyszara's hands trailed down lower to cup the gentle swell of Virginia's small, delicate breasts, the rosy-pink nipples stiffening slightly at the touch, down against the human's belly - flat and taut and hard with athletic tension - and towards the golden-haired juncture of her thighs. The novice allowed herself to luxuriate under the sensation of those feather-light fingers against her skin, but just as she felt herself melt into the sensation, the touch was gone as abruptly as it had begun.

Turning to inspect her surroundings, Virginia could see nothing but trees and grass. In the distance, though, a faint laughter echoed like tinkling crystal. Though Virginia did not know it then, that was the basis of Elyszara's prank - seduce and coax a stranger to the point of perfect relaxation and then render herself invisible by enchantment and disappear back into the forest. It was always entertaining for the aasimar to observe the confused, slightly embarrassed expressions of those whom she left in that state.

Virginia was no different as she rose and dressed as quickly as she could, eager not to be caught in such a vulnerable position by anyone else. The novice proceeded apace to the Fountain while Elyszara reflected carefully on what avenue of mischief she would undertake for the rest of the day. As she mulled over the day's success, though, the aasimar found herself somewhat ambiguous with regards to Virginia. On one hand, the novice paladin had been her typical sport, on the other she had this effortless nobility about her which Elyszara found intriguing. It was an attraction which was less emotive and more hungry than what she felt for Cirily.

Later that day, after retrieving the required silver flask full of water, Virginia prepared to leave back through the portal into Sigil. The mistress of the demesne, the ghaele knight Nerissa, had magnanimously granted her a fresh horse from her personal stable which Virginia was in the process of saddling. It was a fine beast, to be sure, with a coat of midnight black, but she had preferred the Temple's horse. Although the equestrian knight still had a ceremonial role, there was little, if any use for fine horses in Sigil.

The stable was an elegant stone and wood building a little distant from Nerissa's residence. It was kept impeccably clean and filled with the cool smell of hay and wet stone. Almost unnatural, Virginia concluded, for a stable to be in such a quiet, orderly condition - as if the horses needed no incitation to behave and did so out of their own good natures.

"So Lady Virginia, leaving so early?" Elyszara called in her normal speaking voice which, though still graceful, had nothing of the supernatural affectation of her 'wood-spirit' persona.

"Sorry, who's there...you!" Virginia exclaimed as she took a deliberate step back.

"The one and only. Disappointed?" Elyszara said advancing playfully on Virginia.

"But...you're supposed to..."

"Supposed to be the halfbreed daughter of one of your Order's foremost patrons." Elyszara corrected, not entirely unselfconsciously. It was only fair she told Virginia, though, the girl had won her appreciation.

"You mean, Lady Nerissa..." Virginia was too stunned to know what to say, but there was a welling sensation of resentment at having been led by the nose.

"Is that what mother dear has you mortals call her?"

"It occurs to me, you're a mortal too." Virginia said tersely, increasingly irritated at the situation. Being made a fool of was not something she was particularly fond of.

"You don't need to rub it in, you know." Elyszara said darkly.

"So is that how you pass your time, making light of passers-by?" Virginia said, all too eager to return home.

"No...I mean, I wanted to meet you before you left because I wanted to tell you about...you know, my game. I didn't think it would have been fair for you to leave with the wrong impression. That and...maybe I thought you'd enjoy my company, it's a bit lonely down here after all." Elyszara had not meant to sound apologetic, but she did feel that there was something reassuringly pleasant about Virginia's presence, something that put her at ease. It was as if she had misled a truly good person and that thought was something which, despite her occasional lapses into bitterness, Elyszara was not comfortable with.

"Why should I? Is there some more entertainment you want out of me?"

"No, no more games, I swear. It's just that sometimes it really isn't easy to be a mortal in a world of eternal spirits. I mean, if you think about it, I was mystically entrancing to you when you thought I was a spirit of the forest, now I'm just that little bitch who had you on for a joke." Elyszara explained, her tone almost remorseful.

"I never said that," Virginia relented, "I still find you most beautiful."

"Oh thank you!" Elyszara said, the relief in her voice evident as she wrapped her arms around Virginia's waist, "And I think I know just how to thank you for your patience today." The aasimar planted a soft kiss on the hollow of Virginia's neck for emphasis.

"You...don't have to do that." Virginia's refusal was, at best, halfhearted.

"I want to. You're the first person I tricked that way that I've wanted to see again. No - ignore what I just said, I simply wanted to see you again." Elyszara confessed, not quite sure what had overcome her, as she began to open Virginia's tunic, her touch more frantic and less deliberate than it had been before.

Virginia could find no objection to Elyszara's initiative. The aasimar had undressed her before she could even begin to phrase a sentence of protest, her gold-bordered white tunic falling onto the stable's stone floor. So she kissed Elyszara, leaning down to press her lips against the shorter girl's mouth and immediately discovering a new, and unforgettable sensual pleasure. Elyszara's lips, then painted a bright red were hungry, yet skilled, the aasimar's tongue playing a gentle, coy game of hide and seek with Virginia's.

Breaking the kiss only to strip off her gown, Elyszara eagerly returned to her passionate embrace with Virginia. The aasimar's lips descended with each kiss, pressing softly against Virginia's chin, now kissing down the smooth, pale skin of the human girl's throat, then to land slow, wet kisses in the valley between her breasts. The only reaction to Elyszara's sensual, expert lips wrapping around the engorged, pink buds of her nipples was a strangled, guilty moan, as if Virginia felt that she should not be enjoying herself so on official business. The aasimar was, however, too persuasive for such reason to triumph, her tongue now flicking regularly over an inflamed nipple, before snaking further down.

"No, Elyszara, please, let me." Virginia interjected, her sense of gallantry getting the better of her. She could hardly let the daughter of one of the primary benefactors of her order take the initiative in such a way. She cupped Elyszara's face in her hands and leaned forward to kiss her with a slower, more romantic intensity, "Make yourself comfortable on the work table and I will be happy to attend to your pleasure."

That was an invitation the aasimar could not refuse. She backed up towards the table normally used for the repair of bridles and stirrups and cleared away a few residual scarps of metal, her eyes never leaving Virginia's burning, emerald gaze. Raising herself on the smooth-hewn wood of the table, Elyszara knew that her wetness and arousal were in evidence for the paladin to see - the air felt cool on her sex, cool and dry against the tense moisture building between the folds of her sex. She spread her thighs for Virginia, almost lovingly, positioning her delicate feet on the rim of the table and leaning back against the wall - not exactly comfortable, but more than adequate for the human girl to begin the work Elyszara so anticipated.

From her vantage point, Virginia could not help but be held in awe at the sight before her. Elyszara's slender, elfin frame tense with arousal, rounded, feminine breasts with the most beautiful strawberry nipples Virginia had ever seen and, of course, the peach-pink softness of the aasimar girl's sex, so strangely fragrant and covered in the dew of her excitement.

When the novice paladin knelt in front of Elyszara's flowering pussy, it was almost in reverence; the aroma was like nothing she had ever experienced before: only slightly saline, with a pronounced floral note, like a budding blossom. Virginia buried her face in the pink, velvety folds, her tongue savage and desperately ravenous against the aasimar's inner lips. Each lick separated the silky inner flesh, drawing fresh, breathless gasps from Elyszara's perfect lips.

An almost unconscious rhythm began, with Virginia thrusting her tongue firmly into the waiting, moist depths of her newfound lover's canal, laving the sweet, inflamed flesh and forcing it to part to make further room for her ministrations. Elyszara's toes curled to grip the wooden edge of the table, her eyes closed in the throes of passion. All she wanted to feel was the wanton, curious insistence of Virginia's tongue spreading her puffy nether lips apart, lapping up all the moisture which - it had to be said - was undeniably the human girl's fault. Although she was at the centre of attention, Elyszara could not help but feel dominated: she was at the mercy of Virginia's expert tongue; each time it flicked against her stiff little clitoris, the paladin novice won a little victory over her, forcing revealing, high-pitched cries from her lips.

The sensation was in no way unpleasant, on the contrary, it spurred Elyszara forward, compelling her to buck her hips against Virginia's face, to draw the paladin's attentions closer to her burning core. Virginia devoured Elyszara's proffered flower as if her life depended on it. The human woman had never tasted anything so powerfully sensual, so rich and fleshy yet light. Then, of course, there was the moist heaven nestled between the slick inner lips of the aasimar's pussy, the easily manipulated stiffness just below a tiny hood of skin atop the girl's sex. Virginia redoubled her efforts, profoundly eager to bring Elyszara to an orgasm that would be memorable, that would add yet another dimension of pleasure to a day which had already seen the novice paladin gain the honour of bringing back water from the sacred Fountain of the Vigilant Maiden.

Elyszara knew she could not last longer. She felt the burning in her loins and the itching fire in her spine blaze with renewed energy as Virginia now pressed her tongue against the aasimar's clitoris, a single finger sliding between the soft inner lips of her sex to reach deep within and stir up the most inflammatory of pleasures. Alone, in the stable, there was no inhibition for Elyszara so she allowed herself free rein as her climax overtook her, tensing every muscle in her body and sending her into wild, desperate spasms of ecstasy. Her cries filled the stable, though the horses seemed unperturbed as they continued to chew on their hay, her lips silently intoning Virginia's name.

As the waves of her climax cleared into a calm sea of wellbeing, Elyszara allowed herself to slump back against the wall. A few moments before, her world had been on fire, now she felt pleasantly fulfilled; warm, but no longer overwhelmed by the heat of passion. Just a slow burning need to experience Virginia to the fullest.

"Second drawer, there's a box under the notebook." Elyszara instructed breathlessly, her eyes still slitted with the afterglow of her orgasm.

Virginia looked up from between the aasimar's perfectly slender, pale thighs and complied with almost mechanical devotion. As promised, under a fairly prosaic notebook, she found a simple wooden box containing a slightly curved, red olisbos inlaid with cursive Elven script.

"Try it on...it's one of my favourites." Elyszara instructed, her mind already seizing upon the most lurid of fantasies.

The paladin novice examined the dildo for a moment - it weight felt organic, rather than artificial, in her hands and, as she scrutinised the script carved on its surface, she felt a rush of sensual heat, as if the enchantment within the instrument were spurring her on. Bringing the base end of the dildo to the lips of her dripping sex, Virginia felt the instrument thrust itself into her, moving into a suitably deep penetration to anchor itself in the very centre of the human girl's canal. Before even bringing the olisbos to its intended function, Virginia felt a pulse of pure, intense pleasure flow up her spine and ignite the desire already stirring in her loins.

"Take me." Elyszara instructed, her voice cloyed with passion. The aasimar hooked her arms under her knees and pulled her legs forward so that her thighs were pressed against her breasts. She was now fully exposed and at Virginia's mercy.

The human woman shifted forward slightly, adjusting herself to the relatively unfamiliar feeling, running the very tip of the dildo down the length of Elyszara's copiously juicing sex. Virginia decided to tease for a while, just to prolong the aasimar's pleasure, so she ran the tip of the olisbos down her lover's sex, gathering dewlike wetness, before slipping it between the tight furrow of the girl's bottom.

Elyszara gasped as she felt the tip of the instrument run between the taut valley of her firm bottom and brush against the tight, light pink star of her anus. "You can take me there if you want."

Virginia swallowed in trepidation. The sensations being communicated by the dildo were intense beyond description; it was if her sex now rested directly against Elyszara's, as if each point on the aasimar's sex mapped perfectly onto a corresponding point on hers - a melding of senses with the olisbos as a bridge.

"It might hurt a little." Virginia warned, unsure of how to proceed.

"Doesn't matter," Elyszara said wryly, "I've been a naughty girl after all, haven't I? I think milady knight should show this wanton, shameless little princess a little discipline."

The paladin required no further invitation as she gripped the shaft of the olisbos and pressed it firmly against Elyszara's puckered anus. Almost immediately the enchanted script on the dildo's surface began to glow, secreting a clear, sweetly scented oil to coat the rod's surface. It was now Virginia's desire to bring the tiny, tight rosebud into full bloom as she applied a steady, relentless pressure. She was as gentle as possible, easing slightly as she felt the muscle begin to relax and give way, before thrusting in decisively as soon as she had the slightest purchase within Elyszara. The aasimar let out a long, ragged sigh as she felt her bottom give way to the dildo's invasion, the tight star of her sphincter spreading aside to allow inch after gloriously agonising inch to slide in.

For Virginia, the sensation was indescribable. It was as if the full, moist tightness of Elyszara's bottom was shooting through her sex into the pleasure centre in her loins and at the base of her spine. She was literally being enveloped in the aasimar's most private recesses. Virginia leaned forward to kiss Elyszara, allowing the aasimar to wrap her legs around the paladin's neck, drawing her in closer. It was then that Virginia began her thrusts; slow and deliberate at first, just to remind herself of the rhythm appropriate when using a dildo, and then hard and deep, once she was certain Elyszara had relaxed.

The aasimar pushed back, the muscle of her sphincter working the shaft as it slid in and out, forcing low, involuntary moans from Virginia's mouth as she moved with self-confident pace, her torso pressed against Elyszara's as she leaned into the table to regulate her thrusts. As the thrusts began to build, Elyszara felt a deep, tingling sensation in the recesses of her sex, so she indulged it by surreptitiously sliding her fingers between her thighs to stir her clitoris to life in rhythm with each of the human girl's thrusts.

Virginia was too concentrated on her task to even consider Elyszara's move: her Multiverse was now the aasimar's tight, clenching bottom and the smouldering passion of her lips which kissed with boundless energy, eager to absorb the breath of each pleasured gasp.

Virginia came almost as a matter of course. There was no way she could have held on much longer, for Elyszara's bottom was truly divine - soft and yielding yet deliciously tight enough to convey the greatest of pleasures. For her part, the aasimar held Virginia close to her, even when she knew the paladin had come in deep, ragged gasps, just so she could finish her own second orgasm with her fingers. This time it was less energetic than the first, but Elyszara finally felt a sensation of deep, sensual relief wash over her as she contracted spasmodically around Virginia. The paladin could only shiver and sigh in mixed pain and pleasure as she felt the harsh contractions of Elyszara's bottom surround the dildo - and, by extension, her sex.

Rarely had Elyszara felt so profoundly stretched before. Never had she felt such satisfying domination; the hand of another woman in such expert control that her pleasure, her motions were dealt on a whim to which Elyszara herself could only submit. Finally, she had attained the spontaneous surrender which she had so often desired. That was not to say, of course, that she was a masochist, but she had so desperately wanted to change her role in lovemaking, to rely on another she trusted and held in esteem to take her with both power and passion - to be the swooning princess spread out wantonly for her heroic lady-knight's pleasure.

Now, with Virginia resting atop her, Elyszara felt both fulfilled and satisfied, "No, stay like this for a while." the aasimar implored as Virginia began to disentangle herself, "I want you in me a little more."

Virginia nodded silently, leaning forward to kiss Elyszara tenderly on the lips and settling on top of her lover more comfortably so they could remain joined, "Thank you, I'm sorry if I was cold to you before." the paladin said between kisses.

"No, I deserved it. Sometimes you just don't know how lucky you are to meet a good person once in a while."

"I don't want to overstay my welcome, but if you are lonely tonight, I would be happy to share your bed." Virginia ventured boldly.

Elyszara was immediately tempted to agree, but then she thought, more rationally, of Cirily. Her lover had always been open and permissive insofar as relationships between Elyszara and third parties had been concerned, but only on a sensual level. She would certainly have disapproved of her forming such intense emotional bonds with a stranger.

"No, maybe another time. But this is what I will suggest, I'll come and pay a visit to your Order one of these days. Then we'll be free to meet up again."

"I would be delighted to see you again. Make it soon." Virginia said, somewhat disappointed, but pleased enough that she would have more than one beautiful memory to take back to Sigil after her excursion to Arvandor.

***

"So, you're telling me that you've needed to vary your intimate life?" Cirily ventured in response to Elyszara's narrative.

"Yeah, but only in that sense. That is, you always allowed me to take control, but, to be fair, that is the hardest part. To be responsible for another's pleasure. I wanted someone who would take that burden from me."

"Lys, my treasure, you know that's not a problem for me..." Cirily began.

"I know, I needed to keep it a secret from you, though."

"Why?"

"Because it was something I needed for myself. You know everything about me. You can feel the slightest change in my mood or character. Goddess, you even know when my cycle begins and ends without having any physical evidence. I just needed something to call my own." Elyszara confessed with confused resentment.

"I understand, but I sometimes wished you spoke to me more. I'm here for that. I've always been here for that." Cirily said as she rose from her chair to wrap her arms around Elyszara's neck, leaning forward into her lover's fragrant, dark multichrome hair to plant an affectionate kiss. s

Elyszara relented a little, Cirily was, of course, right. There was no rational need to hide anything from someone who was so impeccably tolerant, "Forgive me, I think I just needed to explain where my...desire came from."

"You're always forgiven," Cirily reassured, "but I'm curious, why did you end up with Syf and not Virginia?"

"Because, in the end, Virginia was the wiser one - she told me the next time I met her that it was impossible, that we were too different. She knew then and there that we would just end up hurting one another more, not to mention the ones we loved. Syf, though, she was gallant and charming - but, when all was said and done, we had more in common than she would have admitted. We were both so insecure and for different reasons, so it was easy to find solace in each other." Elyszara reclined gratefully into Cirily's embrace. She had begun to take her lover for granted, but it was moments like these in which she realised that the point of Cirily's 'punishments' by distance was not so much to make her suffer, but to make her understand the importance of their relationship.

"Nevermind now, that's in the past. We should live after it and not relive it. Now come to bed, there's too much emptiness without you."

Not for the first time, Cirily led and Elyszara, grateful for her lover's patient understanding, followed.

"One last thing," Cirily said as the approached the bedchamber, "I would like you to apologise to Friyya."

"What?" Elyszara stood still, somewhat dumbfounded.

"Whatever you did with Syf is fine by me now, but I don't think that is the case with Friyya. Be the decent girl I love and do the right thing." Cirily invited, planting her lips wetly against Elyszara's.

"Oh...fine," Elyszara conceded between gritted teeth, already imagining the sheer humiliation which the situation would incur, "I'll go myself."

"Tomorrow." Cirily ordered, a hand creeping up Elyszara's gown to cup the soft curve of the aasimar's taut bottom.

"As you wish, my love." Elyszara sighed only to be quickly silenced by the heat of Cirily's lips.

"I knew I could count on you...now allow me to show my gratitude." When Cirily assumed that tone, Elyszara automatically knew that she had a long and joyous night ahead of her.

***

Ithunn thought that it was just a cliche'. The cliche' of waking up with someone you simple didn't want to see in that capacity in the morning, She had thought that it was something confined to complicit stories with bunkmates at night, or to third-rate romances which, in any case, she did not have either the time or inclination to read. Unfortunately, that sentiment was precisely what was worming its way into her mind the instant she realised that, upon waking, Inge was curled up against her - so small and fragile - smiling, her arms wrapped around Ithunn's waist.

"If only I could wake up like this every morning." The trainee priestess sighed in reverence, her deep, grey eyes, normally so sedate and mysterious briefly sparkling with a joy Ithunn had never before observed in them. It had certainly not been the first time they had shared a bed, but it was the first time they had shared such intimacy and awoken with such a vivid memory of it.

"Oh, Inge..." Ithunn sighed, almost groaning as she fell back against her pillow. She did not want to wake her roommates - not least because she had no intention of bearing their snide comments - when they thought her back was turned - about her and Inge.

"My sweet Ithunn, did I not please you last night...was I too inexpert or clumsy for you?" The smaller girl asked nervously, already feeling a welling sense of rejection building in her.

"No, no," Ithunn consoled, straining her eyes as she recalled exactly what had happened, "as a matter of fact, I should apologise I...uh, well is there anything I can do for you since...ah, well...I was absolutely exhausted last night and..." There was no simple, or face-saving way to put it. Inge had patiently and enthusiastically pleasured her - granted not with much skill - but as soon as she had reached her climax, she had allowed herself to fall back into much needed sleep. Now, of course, Ithunn's predicament was embarrassing and damning to say the least.

"Please, Ithunn, it really is nothing. It was a great pleasure and honour to be of service to you last night. All that I would humbly ask in return is...well, perhaps some flowers after lessons today and a little time together, just the two of us." Inge's smile was so innocently sweet that Ithunn, generally speaking a sucker for that kind of manipulation, readily agreed. After all, it was the least she could do. The last thing, however, she wanted was for this arrangement to come to Syf's attention. Ithunn had not objection to spending time with Inge, but to give Syf the wrong impression would be both grave and unforgivable.

"Only the Goddess knows how lucky I am," Inge said fervently as she kissed Ithunn's soft lips with all her passion. "There were times when I would have given all that I had for just a little attention from you."

"It's nothing." Ithunn said, eager to get at least few more moments of rest before the call to first prayers rang. But, at that point, she knew it was inevitable that the others would see Inge still in her bed. With that broad, contented smile fixed on the trainee priestesses' lips, there would be no doubt whatsoever as to what had transpired.

Naturally, Ithunn knew that her sisters-at-arms admired her to the point that they would not make any open comments, but she could already imagine what they would be thinking. That, however, would - in the end - only be a minor irritation. The real problem lay in what Syf would end up thinking when, inevitably, she learned about Ithunn's increasingly convoluted sentimental predicament.